


Deal With It

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:45:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the road to find Baelfire, Emma and Mr. Gold stop for dinner. He seems even grouchier than usual. In which Gold is a grumpy sour puss and Emma is pesky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal With It

"So. What's in the bag, Gold."

He growled, and when he spoke, the brogue came out even stronger than usual. Mind, it seemed to be getting stronger by the hour. "Nothin's in the bag."

She smirked. "Something has to be in it. You wouldn't cling to it for nothing."

"Nothin's in the bag!" He even slammed the thing on the table, the metal buckles and leather squelching and clattering on the fake wood. "Check it if ya don' belive me." His eyes were gold steel, and she felt a brow rise.

 _Don't mind if I do_. The bag flopped, and when she opened it, there was indeed nothing inside it except the spikey, smokey must that was probably Gold. "Huh," she grunted, as much in apology as a stunned lack of anything else to say. She had been wondering if she could catch Gold in an obvious lie, but the truth was in fact stranger than fiction.

"Satisfied?" he hissed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "For now." Her hands stll explored, but there weren't any secret compartments, any zippers, and unseen objects sewn into the frame of the thing. In fact, there weren't even any holes, loose threads, scuffmarks, or general signs of wear, much less evidence of age. Not that she was an expert on antiques -- if Gold had been Rumpelstiltskin for three centuries before coming to Storybrooke, odds were good he would learn a few tricks. Magick, for instance. She held it back to him. "It's in very good condition."

"Thank you." The line of his mouth did not speak of gratitude. In fact, he seemed nervous under the compliment, even roundabout as it was.

"So... Why take a bag if you're not going to put anything in it?"

He pursed his lips together. He closed his eyes, as if summoning patience, before softly asking, "Am I under arrest, Sheriff?" He used the title with stiff formality, and she rolled her eyes. He gestured grandly to the diner in which they were sitting. "Are you going to interrogate me over our supper? I mean, it's not like we're even in your jurisdiction, but I don't know if that will _stop_ you."

"Actually, you abducted _me_ , if you'll remember," she growled. She glanced about to see if anyone wasn't minding their own business, if they were to start tossing such things about. Gold tightened his grip on his cane. "I remind you that I'm participating under duress."

He gave a humourless chuckle. "Oh, right, because you didn't agree to that Deal with full knowledge..."

" _Technically_..." she interrupted, but in as kind a way as possible. He stared her down, but she did not flinch. "...You still can't force me to do this. And if you use magick -- or anything, really -- to make me, that's abduction, and you can go to jail for a _very_ long time for that." His jaw clenched, but he kept his eyes on the bag. "Now, fortunately, I'm here of my own free will, so it's a moot issue, _but_..."

She waited for his jaw to stop working, and his eyes to once more meet hers, albeit with a certain amount of stubbornness that might have been more endearing were it not in such a particularly prone-to-physical-violence little man. The fact that he'd just been through a heart-breaking ordeal notwithstanding. "I think I'm entitled to know a few things." She held up her eyebrows, offering the deal to him kindly. She felt it was more than fair.

"And you are," he answered. "I've already told you where we're going and what we're doing." He pressed a finger to the table. "You owed me a favour, and I'm taking it back. In full. Beyond that, I owe you _nothing_."

Emma sighed, spotting the waitress coming towards them, her hamburger and chips on one plate, and his begrudgingly chosen cup of vegetable stew on the other. "Fine," she muttered, annoyed at how suddenly-unhelpful he was, but grateful she'd been able to find a diner in town. She was already starting to miss Storybrooke.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine you're clever enough to figure out why Rumplestiltskin is carrying around an empty bag?


End file.
